I 


M 


Cfte  Liftrarg 

of  tyt 

Onitiet0itp  of  JBortb  Caroltna 


The  Sylvester  Hassell  Collection 

FROM  THE   LIBRARY  OF 

Sylvester  Hassell,  D.  D. 

CLASS     OF    "62 

GIVEN   BY    HIS   CHILDREN 


UNIVERSITYOF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 

School  of   Libiayy 
Soles** 


•  Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/happydeathormemoOOgene 


THE    HAPPY    DEATH; 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    JANE, 


VITH     ALTERATIONS, 

ADAPTING   IT  TO  THE    SE   OF  THE   GENERAL  PROTESTANT   EPISCOPAL 
1    HJNDAY   SCHOOL  UNION. 


N^W-YORK: 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  -JEN.  PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL 

S  U  ]f  p  A  Y    SCHOOL 

\UV\OK. 


MEMOIR. 


Mary  Jane  was  endowed  with  an  excellent  un- 
derstanding, as  her  questions  and  answers,  and  her 
style  of  speaking,  which  was  far  above  her  years, 
plainly  showed.  But  this  was  her  lowest  recom- 
mendation. Our  faculties  are  the  gift  of  God,  and 
we  are  accountable  only  for  the  use  we  make  of 
them.  Many  an  intelligent  child  is  far  from  being 
amiable,  while  many  a  good  child  is  far  from  being 
intelligent.  What  was  most  to  be  admired  with 
regard  to  her  understanding,  was,  that  though  she 
knew  her  powers,  she  never  made  a  show  of  them. 
It  was  only  accidentally  that  even  her  parents 
became  acquainted  with  the  extent  of  the  informa- 
tion she  had  acquired. 

Mary  Jane  had  also  a  very  pleasant  countenance ; 
but  neither  is  this  circumstance  very  important. 
It  is  not  the  face,  but  the  heart,  which  God  regards. 

Mary  Jane,  like  every  other  human  being,  had  a 
heart  which  by  nature  was  prone  to  evil.  She  was 
naturally  inclined  to  be  self-willed ;  but  by  the 
blessing  of  God  on  the  pains  which  were  taken  with 
her,  and  on  the  pains  she  took  with  herself,  this 
temper  was  almost  wholly  eradicated,  or  showed 
itself  only  in  the  desirable  form  of  firmness  and 
decision  in  well-doing. 

(  3  ^ 


4  MEMOIR    OF 

She  was  very  careful  to  speak  the  truth.  When 
about  six  years  of  age,  while  engaged  in  serious 
conversation  with  her  mother  on  :he  nature  of  par- 
don, she  was  asked  if  she  had  the  recollection  of 
any  particular  sins.  After  pausing  awhile,  she 
answered,  evidently  much  concerned,  "  Mamma,  I 
believe  I  once  told  a  lie."  The  fault  had  been  for- 
gotten by  every  one  except  herself,  and  when  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  were  explained,  it  was 
found  that  what  had  dwelt  so  long  on  her  mind,  (it 
is  believed  for  more  than  a  year,)  was  not  an  abso- 
lute falsehood,  but  an  equivocation,  which,  though 
decidedly  wrong,  many  persons,  adults  as  well  as 
children,  would  have  deemed  hardly  worthy  of 
being  remembered  at  all,  far  less  of  being  so  long 
remembered  with  sorrow.  She  was  very  reluctant 
to  make  absolute  promises,  lest  she  should  not 
keep  them.  On  her  mother's  reading  to  her,  from 
a  magazine,  an  extract  on  this  subject  from  the 

memoir  of  Isabella  Maria  L ,  the  dear  parent 

was  much  struck  by  remembering  that  Mary  Jane 
had  long  manifested  precisely  the  same  objection 
against  pledging  herself  to  any  line  of  conduct.  On 
this  occasion,  Mary  Jane  said,  in  reference  to  that 
extract,  "When  I  say  I  will  try,  I  mean  exactly  the 
same  as  that  little  girl  did." 

It  was  not  till  after  the  death  of  Mary  Jane,  that 
the  interesting  memoir  of  Isabella  Maria  came  into 
the  hands  of  Mary  Jane's  parents.  Several  points 
of  agreement  between  the  characters  of  the  two 
children  are  observable.    Mary  Jane,  like  Isabella 


MARY   JANE.  5 

Maria,  sometimes  complained  of  being  disturbed 
by  the  younger  children,  and  would  read  till  they 
were  asleep,  that  she  might  pray  without  interrup- 
tion. She  requested  her  mother  to  grant  her  a 
room  to  herself.  Her  mother  did  not  accede  to 
this  request,  but  told  her  to  come  whenever  she 
liked  to  her  room,  which  afterward  she  often  did 
with  great  pleasure ;  and  when  six  years  and  a 
half  old,  she  would  frequently  go  into  the  shrub- 
bery for  hours,  with  a  book,  which  she  enjoyed  in 
that  retirement,  as  she  was  then  exempt  from  the 
bustle  of  the  nursery. 

Her  parents  can  refer  to  many  seasons  when  she 
evinced  great  spirituality  of  mind,  and  extraordi- 
nary delight  in  religious  conversation.  She  also, 
felt  considerable  interest  in  missionary  exertions, 
and  has  sometimes  very  cheerfully  made  little 
sacrifices  in  order  to  contribute  a  trifle  to  that 
object. 

She  delighted  much  in  reading ;  but  the  books 
which  she  usually  selected  were  different  from 
those  which  most  children  prefer,  being  almost 
exclusively  of  a  religious  character. 

About  a  year  before  her  death,  she  was  much  con- 
cerned that  she  had  so  long  lived  in  the  neglect  of 
the  Saviour's  command,  "  Do  this  in  remembrance 
of  me.'5  On  her  mother's  telling  her  that  it  was 
addressed  to  the  disciples  of  Jesus,  that  she  must 
give  decided  evidence  of  piety  before  she  could  be 
admitted  to  the  sacramental  table,  and  that  she  was 
too  young,  she  replied,  "  Mamma,  when  do  you 


D  MEMOIR   OF 

think  I  shall  be  old  enough  ?  Jesus  does  not  men- 
tion any  particular  age.  Will  you  promise  that  I 
may  as  soon  as  you  think  I  am  changed  in  heart  ? 
I  should  not  like  to  tell  a  minister  that  I  was 
changed  in  heart;  would  you  tell  him  about  it, 
Mamma?" 

After  this  she  was  remarkably  exemplary  in  her 
conduct  for  about  a  fortnight;  but  though  she  did 
not  always  preserve  the  same  tone  of  mind,  serious 
conversation  was  invariably  sufficient  to  interest 
and  bring  her  back  to  a  right  frame,  except  during 
a  short  time,  perhaps  a  week  or  ten  days,  in  July 
last,  when  she  manifested  an  indifference  to  divine 
things  quite  unusual.  Her  general  deportment  at 
this  time  was  likewise  far  from  amiable.  There 
is  reason  to  believe  she  was  under  the  influence  of 
bad  example,  and  the  circumstance  showed  her 
parents  the  vast  importance  of  being  watchful  in 
this  respect.  When  the  cause  was  discovered,  and 
an  appeal  was  made  to  her  judgment,  she  saw  her 
folly  in  its  proper  light,  and  from  that  time  she 
gave  no  more  occasion  for  censure. 

Prayer  never  seemed  a  task  to  her:  she  would 
at  times  express  herself  in  very  appropriate  lan- 
guage, and  with  much  real  feeling.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  she  had  no  idea  of  any  one  being  near, 
her  parents  were  quite  astonished  to  hear  her  peti- 
tions, the  subjects  being  of  vital  importance,  and 
offered  up  with  all  the  fervor  and  devotion  of  an 
old  Christian.  Her  ideas  seemed  quite  beyond  the 
capacity  of  a  child ;  and  when,  at  the  request  of 


MARY    JANE.  7 

Catharine,  a  younger  sister,  she  began  to  teach  her 
how  to  pray,  she  accommodated  her  language  to 
her  sister's  understanding  in  such  a  way  as  evidently 
showed  she  viewed  the  exercise  as  more  than  a  form 
of  unmeaning  words.  She  made  Catharine  repeat 
several  petitions  after  her,  and  then  said,  "  You 
must  now  think  for  yourself."  Catharine  said, 
"  What  must  I  think  ?  "  "  Think  of  your  sins,  of 
your  wants,  and  pray  from  your  own  heart:  my 
praying  wont  be  accepted  instead  of  yours." 

A  few  days  before  she  died,  she  exhorted  her 
sister  to  be  attentive  when  her  parents  talked  to 
her,  and  added  with  great  earnestness,  "  If  you 
don't  repent  of  your  sins,  Catharine,  you'll  never 
meet  me  at  the  right  hand  of  God."  On  her  mo- 
ther's then  asking  Mary  Jane  if  she  had  repented 
of  her  sins,  she  said,  "Yes,  I  hope  I  have,  Mamma." 
"Have  you  repented  of  any  particular  sins?" 
"  Yes,  Mamma."  "  What  are  they  ?  "  "I  think 
chiefly,  Mamma,  that  I  have  sometimes  disobeyed 
you  and  papa." 

Once  when  her  pain  was  very  severe,  she  said, 
"  My  pains  are  great,  but  it  is  God's  will,  and  his 
will  be  done."  She  had  no  fear  of  death,  and  no 
wish  to  recover ;  she  often  said,  she  would  rather 
die.  Once  she  remarked,  she  had  not  felt  quite 
sure  that  day  that  she  should  go  to  heaven;  she 
had  no  desire  to  get  better,  but  she  wished  to 
live  till  she  was  quite  sure  of  heaven.  A  meetness 
for  it,  and  a  full  assurance  of  it,  she  most  frequent- 
ly prayed  for. 


8  MEMOIR   OF 

At  midsummer,  1833,  Mary  Jane  was  placed 
under  the  care  of  the  Misses  Atkinson,  in  Stroud ; 
and  it  is  believed  that  during  her  five  months'  resi- 
dence in  that  town,  the  instruction  she  received  at 
school  and  in  the  church,  in  connection  with  her 
own  reading,  was  the  means  of  increasing  both  her 
knowledge  of  religion  and  her  relish  for  it.  Her 
deportment  at  school  was  gentle,  obedient  and 
affectionate,  and  was  evidently  the  result  of  Chris- 
tian principle  strongly  imbuing  her  mind.  Both  as 
a  pupil  and  a  companion  in  the  school-room  she 
was  a  lovely  character,  and  her  death  has  conse- 
quently occasioned  no  small  sorrow. 

Just  before  the  holidays,  the  clergyman  gave, 
according  to  custom,  a  parting  address  to  the  girls, 
of  whom  Mary  Jane  was  one,  and  was  led  to  speak 
at  greater  length  than  usual  on  the  brevity  of  life, 
and  on  the  possibility  that  they  might  never  meet 
again,  as  well  as  on  the  excellence  of  religion. 

Two  days  afterward  Mary  Jane  returned  to  her 
beloved  parents.  The  flush  of  health  was  on  her 
cheek,  and  on  entering  the  house,  such  was  the 
buoyancy  of  her  spirits,  that  she  danced  for  joy. 
Little  did  her  parents  then  imagine  that  their 
habitation  was  so  soon  to  become  the  house  of 
mourning. 

On  Wednesday,  December  18,  exactly  a  week 
after  her  return,  while  playing  in  the  garden,  she 
took  cold,  and  the  next  day  was  very  unwell.  On 
Saturday,  she  seemed  to  have  recovered,  and  went 
to  bed  about  nine  o'clock  in  excellent  spirits;  but 


MARY   JANE.  9 

very  early  next  morning  she  awoke  in  a  fit  of 
coughing,  and  had  severe  pain  in  the  chest.  Medi- 
cal help  was  obtained,  and  occasionally  a  gleam  of 
hope  of  her  recovery  was  enjoyed ;  but  on  the 
whole,  the  disorder  increased  upon  her,  and  finally 
issued  in  her  removal  from  beloved  and  weeping 
friends,  to  the  Saviour  who  gathers  the  lambs  in 
his  arms,  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom. 

During  her  illness  her  irritability  was  sometimes 
so  great  as  to  make  her  appear  unamiable ;  but  as 
this  was  quite  contrary  to  her  natural  temper, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  ought  to  be  ascribed 
to  her  disorder.  Probably  even  an  adult  Christian 
suffering  equal  pain  and  uneasiness,  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  avoid  the  manifestation  of  simi- 
lar infirmity. 

Her  thirst  for  reading  seemed  to  increase  with 
her  sufferings.  When  advised  to  read  less,  she 
would  say,  "  I  must  have  a  book,  Papa ;  it  is  the 
only  thing  to  make  me  forget  my  pain." 

In  answer  to  a  question  put  to  her  by  her  dear 
mother,  she  said,  "  I  think,  Mamma,  I  never  felt  the 
burden  of  sin  so  much  as  I  did  once  last  half-year 
while  hearing  a  sermon  j"  and  on  being  further 
questioned  with  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  ex- 
pression she  had  used,  she  said,  "  It  was  a  great 
weight  on  my  mind  ;  I  felt  very  sad." 

Conversing  with  her  father  respecting  a  printed 

sermon  which  had  greatly  interested  her,  on  the 

text,  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the 

Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him ; "  and  observing 

I* 


10  MEMOIR   OF 

her  father  affected,  she  said,  "  Papa,  why  do  you 
weep?  Don't  cry,  Papa,  it  hurts  me  so  much."  He 
replied,  "My  dear  child,  your  father  weeps  because 
he  sees  you  suffer  so  much,  and  cannot  relieve 
you."  She  answered,  "  Christ  suffered  more." 
At  another  time,  when  her  pain  was  very  severe, 
she  said,  "  My  pains  are  great,  but  it  is  God's  will, 
and  his  will  be  done."  It  is  observable  that  from 
that  time,  with  only  one  exception,  she  always, 
when  addressing  her  parent,  called  him  father; 
probably  from  the  religious  associations  which,  in 
consequence  of  the  above-cited  conversation,  that 
word  awakened  in  her  mind. 

The  first  evening  after  she  was  taken  ill,  she 
desired  her  nurse  to  read  to  her,  and  said,  "  Ann, 
read  me  that  psalm,  '  Search  me,  O  God,  and  try 
me,' "  &c.  But  when  she  found  that  the  young 
woman  could  not  at  once  turn  to  it,  she  said, 
"  Never  mind ;  read  the  tenth  chapter  of  John, 
about  the  good  shepherd."  Being  asked  if  she 
thought  herself  one  of  Christ's  flock,  she  replied, 
"  I  hope  so,  Mamma,  but  am  not  quite  sure;  that  is 
what  I  want  to  know."  On  several  occasions, 
when  asked  what  she  particularly  wished  her  pa- 
rents to  pray  for  on  her  behalf,  she  would  say, 
"  That  my  sins  may  be  pardoned ;  that  I  may  be 
made  fit  for  heaven;  that  I  may  feel  truly  con- 
verted." And  two  or  three  times  she  asked  her 
father  to  pray  that  she  might  have  a  good  hope  that 
her  sins  were  pardoned. 

On  the  evening  of  the  Lord's  day  preceding  her 


MARY   JANE.  11 

death,  being  much  exhausted  from  the  application 
of  leeches,  she  said,  "  The  easy  chair,  Mamma." 
Her  mother,  supposing  that  she  wished  to  be 
placed  in  it,  said,  "  No,  my  dear,  it  will  not  do." 
"  Well,  there's  an  easier  seat  than  that,  Mamma." 
"Where,  my  dear?"  "In  heaven."  "Do  you 
think,  my  dear,  that  you  will  be  in  heaven  soon?" 
"I  think  I  shall,  Mamma;  I  am  drawing  near  to 
death."  Perceiving  that  her  mother  was  much 
affected,  she  lifted  up  her  withered  arm,  and  strok- 
ing her  mother's  face  with  her  hand,  said,  in  the 
most  endearing  manner,  "  Mourn  not  for  me,  dear- 
est Mamma ;  rather  rejoice  :  Jesus  will  comfort 
you  when  I  am  gone.  We  shall  meet  again  at  the 
right  hand  of  God." 

Her  mother  asked  if  she  had  prayed  that  day. 
She  answered  that  she  thought  she  had  not.  Her 
mother  remarked  that  it  had  been  a  day  of  bustle 
and  confusion,  but  as  all  was  then  still  and  quiet, 
she  would  do  well  to  take  advantage  of  the  oppor- 
tunity for  prayer ;  to  which  she  readily  assented. 
Her  mother  then  said,  "You  have  often,  my  darling, 
prayed  before  me,  when  in  health  ;  I  should  like  to 
hear  you  pray  now,  if  you  feel  quite  comfortable  to 
pray  aloud."  She  answered,  "If  you  wish  it,  I 
will,  Mamma  ; "  and  then  in  a  very  feeling  manner 
offered  the  following  petitions: — "Blessed  Jesus! 
do  thou  take  away  my  sinful  heart,  and  give  me  a 
new  heart.  Jesus,  do  thou  wash  me  in  thy  own 
blood ;  and  O  Jesus  !  do  thou  give  me  a  comfort- 
able assurance  that  when  I  die  thou  wilt  take  me 


12  MEMOIR   OP 

to  heaven.  And,  Jesus,  do  thou  comfort  my  pa- 
rents when  I  am  gone.  Make  me  kind  to  my  bro- 
thers and  sisters.  Jesu,s,  do  thou  teach  them  the 
way  to  heaven,  that  we  may  all  meet  at  thy  right 
hand.  Jesus,  do  thou  make  me  more  patient  and 
kind  to  those  who  attend  me ;  and  O,  look  upon 
me  as  cleansed  from  all  my  sins  by  thy  precious 
blood!" 

Her  mother  then  said,  "  I  have  often  told  you, 
my  dear,  of  what  importance  it  is  to  pray  from  the 
heart ;  but  I  need  not  ask  you  if  this  is  from  the 
heart ;  I  am  sure  it  is."  With  much  energy  she 
said,  "  Yes,  Mamma,  indeed  it  is." 

Afterward  she  requested  her  mother,  as  a  parti 
cular  favor,  to  distribute  her  books  among  the 
various  members  of  the  family,  specifying  the  par- 
ticular book  or  books  which  she  wished  each  to 
have.  She  was  at  a  loss  to  fix  on  a  suitable  book 
for  her  sister  Ellen,  who  was  only  two  months  old, 
and  of  whom  she  had  seen  but  little.  On  her 
mamma  saying,  "  Ellen  will  never  remember  you, 
my  dear;"  she  replied,  "  No,  Mamma,  but  I  wish 
to  remember  her." 

When  she  had  finished  the  distribution  of  her 
books,  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  Mamma,  this  is  like 
making  my  will."  Her  mother  said,  "  Have  you 
just  thought  of  it,  my  darling?"  She  answered, 
"No,  Mamma;  it  is  some  days  since  I  first  thought 
of  it."  "  Why  did  you  not  name  it  before,  my 
dear?"  "I  did  not  like,  Mamma;  I  kr  v  you 
would  feel  hurt." 


MARY   JANE.  13 

She  manifested  a  most  delightful  feeling  of 
affection  toward  her  parents;  she  would  some- 
times say,  "  What  could  I  do  without  you?  You 
are  my  best  friends."  After  having  received  any 
little  attention  from  her  parents,  her  eye  would 
affectionately  fix  upon  them,  and  with  a  pleasing 
expression  of  thoughtfulness  on  her  countenance, 
she  would  say,  "If  I  should  recover,  and  you 
should  ever  be  ill,  I  would  pay  you  every  atten- 
tion in  my  power." 

During  her  illness  she  invariably  spoke  of  hea- 
ven as  the  home  where  she  expected  finally  to  meet 
her  friends:  she  liked  to  speak  of  heaven.  One 
day,  with  a  sweet  smile,  she  said,  "  I  think  I  shan't 
know  any  body  in  heaven,  Mamma;  you  had  a 
dear  sister,  are  you  quite  sure  she  is  in  heaven  ?  " 
"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  of  it." 
"Do  you  think  I  should  know  her,  Mamma?" 
"  Perhaps,  my  dear,  she  may  be  permitted  to  wel- 
come you  there."  This  thought  gave  her  pleasure, 
and  she  said,  "  If  I  may  be  permitted,  I  should 
like  to  welcome  you  and  papa  when  you  come ; 
perhaps  your  dear  sister  will  too."  About  a  year 
before  this  she  had  heard  a  sermon  on  "the  minis- 
try of  angels;"  it  was  a  very  pleasing  subject  to 
her,  and  she  had  often  dwelt  upon  it,  but  till  her 
illness  she  never  mentioned  it  to  us. 

One  day  she  requested  her  mamma  to  let  her 
youngest  sister,  Ellen,  be  brought  to  her,  begging 
she  rr  it  be  placed  near  her.  She  looked  at  her 
very  e     aestly,  her  countenance  indicating  much 


14  MEMOIR   OF 

thoughtfulness.  About  ten  days  previous  to  this 
she  had  read  "  Helen  of  the  Glen,"  but  had  made 
*  no  remark  upon  it ;  she  now  said,  "  Mamma,  I  have 
been  wishing  that  your  child  Ellen  may  be  like 
Helen  of  the  glen;  you  know  her  name  is  not 
spelt  the  same  ;  but  it  will  be  a  happy  thing  if  she 
is  washed  in  the  same  blood,  and  made  fit  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  She  made  several  interesting 
remarks  on  Helen's  piety,  on  her  being  about  her 
own  age ;  likewise  on  the  advice  Helen  gave  to  her 
brother. 

This  conversation  is  merely  mentioned  to  show 
her  turn  of  mind,  which  was  not  immediately  to 
speak  of  what  interested  her  feelings ;  and  also  to 
show  the  concern  she  felt  for  her  infant  sister,  who 
was  dedicated  to  God  in  holy  baptism  on  the  very 
day  that  Mary  Jane  was  first  confined  to  her  room ; 
and  it  was  a  great  disappointment  to  her  that  she 
could  not  be  present.  The  infant  had  been  named 
Ellen  partly  at  her  request,  to  remind  t  :e  family 
of  a  little  girl  in  whom  she  felt  considerable  inter- 
est, though  scarcely  personally  known  to  ner. 

At  different  times  Mary  Jane's  remarks,  and  her 
artless  and  earnest  prayers,  left  a  most  pleasing 
impression  on  the  minds  of  her  friends.  At  one 
time,  when  Mary  Jane  had  concluded  a  ery  ear- 
nest prayer,  her  mother,  much  affected,  said,  "My 
love,  I  can  have  no  doubt  now  that  you  are  one 
of  Christ's  lambs."  The  dear  child  repli  »J,  with 
an  emphasis  and  feeling  almost  too  mu  vfor  a. 
parent's  heart  to  bear,^ 


MARY   JANE.  15 

"  Is  he  a  door  1    I'll  enter  in ; 
Behold  the  pastures  large  and  green, 
A  paradise  divinely  fair ; 
None  but  the  sheep  have  freedom  there." 

"  My  love,"  said  her  mother,  weeping,  "  that  is 
beautiful  language,  but  it  is  the  peculiar  adaptation 
of  it  that  makes  it  so  delightful  to  me,"  On  which 
she  looked  up,  and  quoted  the  following  verse  : — 

"  Is  he  a  sun  1     His  beams  are  grace, 
His  course  is  joy  and  righteousness ; 
Nations  rejoice  when  he  appears, 
To  chase  their  clouds  and  dry  their  tears." 

Observing  the  joy  which  the  recital  of  these 
verses  occasioned,  she  said,  "  I  can  tell  you,  dear 
Mamma,  the  texts  they  are  taken  from,"  several  of 
which  she  then  named.  Soon  after  this,  mention 
was  made  of  a  little  impatience  she  had  at  times 
manifested  during  her  severe  affliction,  and  she 
was  exhorted  to  bear  patiently  all  that  her  heavenly 
Father  appointed  her  to  suffer.  She  then  repeated 
from  the  same  beautiful  hymn  the  lines, 

"  Is  he  a  fire  1    He  '11  purge  my  dross, 
But  the  true  gold  sustains  no  loss. 
Like  a  refiner  shall  he  sit, 
And  tread  the  refuse  with  his  feet." 

After  a  short  interval,  she  proceeded, 

<!  Is  he  a  star  ?     He  breaks  the  night, 
Piercing  the  shades  with  dawning  light ; 
I  know  his  glories  from  afar, 
I  know  the  bright,  the  Morning  Star." 


16  MEMOIR   OF 

The  last  two  lines  of  the  next  stanza  were  spoken 
with  peculiar  emphasis  : — 

"  Is  he  a  vine  1    His  heavenly  root, 
Supplies  the  boughs  with  life  and  fruit. 
O  let  a  lasting  union  join, 
My  soul,  the  branch,  to  Christ,  the  Vine" 

She  concluded  with  the  following,  having  ob- 
served in  her  quotations  from  the  hymn,  not  the 
order  of  the  verses  as  they  stand  in  the  book,  but 
the  order  suggested  by  the  circumstances  of  herself 
and  her  dear  parents. 

"  Is  he  a  way  1     He  leads  to  God, 
His  path  is  drawn  in  lines  of  blood ; 
There  would  I  walk  with  hope  and  zeal, 
Till  I  arrive  at  Zion's  hill." 

Of  the  sermons  she  had  recently  heard,  she  made 
particular  mention  of  one  on  the  text,  "The  bruised 
reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  shall 
he  not  quench:"  and  a  sermon  on  prayer,  con- 
sidered as  the  means  of  obtaining  the  blessing  of 
God,  from  the  text,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive." 
Her  parents  often  conversed  with  her  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  atonement,  and,  considering  her  age,  she 
seemed  to  have  a  clear  understanding  of  its  nature. 
Some  interesting  remarks  she  made  on  the  subject 
cannot  now  be  distinctly  remembered. 

On  the  evening  preceding  her  death,  a  swelling 
was  discovered  in  her  right  breast,  which  proving 
to  be  an  abscess,  about  noon  on  the  following  day  it 
was  opened.    The  discharge  was  very  great.    Her 


MARY   JANE.  17 

pain  now  left  her,  but  extreme  debility  ensued. 
During  the  afternoon  a  cold  sweat  came  on,  which, 
when  wiped  off,  soon  returned ;  and  she  also  felt 
great  thirst.  At  a  quarter  before  nine,  with  a  clear 
voice,  she  asked  for  some  milk.  After  taking  a 
little  she  leaned  back  on  her  pillow,  but  spoke 
no  more;  her  chin  quivered,  and  immediately  she 
ceased  to  suffer,  for  she  ceased  to  breathe. 

Two  funeral  discourses  were  delivered ;  and  sel- 
dom have  so  many  tears  been  shed  at  the  death  of 
a  child,  as  were  shed  on  the  occasion  of  the  decease 
of  this  beloved  and  pious  girl.  May  many  dear 
children  on  reading  this  memoir  be  induced  to  pray 
to  God  for  that  pardoning  mercy,  and  that  new 
heart,  which  he  alone  can  give ! 

Some  of  you,  my  dear  young  friends,  will  die 
before  many  more  years  have  passed  away.  Have 
you  repented  of  sin  ?  Do  you  love  and  trust  in  the 
blessed  Saviour  ?   Are  you  trying  to  please  God? 

If  you  desire  to  love  him,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  is  willing  to  bless  you,  for  he  casts  out  none 
that  come  to  him.  "  The  bruised  reed  he  will  not 
break,  and  the  smoking  flax  he  will  not  quench." 


THE 


SUNSHINE     OF     LIFE. 


Who  is  there  that  does  not  like  sunshine!  I 
should  as  soon  expect  to  find  a  young  person  who 
could  not  eat  any  nice  cake  as  one  who  disliked 
sunshine,  for  it  adorns  the  earth  and  the  heavens, 
and  makes  the  heart  cheerful.  How  it  quivers  on 
the  running  water  !  How  it  glitters  on  the  gilded 
weathercock !  How  it  blazes  on  the  window  panes ! 
But  I  have  a  tale  to  tell  you  about  the  sunshine. 

It  happened  one  afternoon  in  my  youthful  days, 
that  I  felt  quite  tired  of  the  pretty  book  that  had 
kept  me  sitting  still  for  two  whole  hours ;  so  clos- 

(18) 


THE   SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE.  19 

ing  it,  I  went  into  the  garden  with  a  friend  about 
my  own  age.  Young  people  seldom  like  to  be 
confined  to  one  thing  long  together,  and  I  remem- 
ber with  what  gayety  we  ran  along  the  grass  plot, 
and  up  the  garden  steps,  without  bonnets,  and  in 
such  haste,  that  by  the  time  we  reached  the  bower 
at  the  top  of  the  garden,  we  were  quite  out  of  breath, 
so  we  sat  down  in  the  bower  and  looked  around 
us.  It  was  autumn,  and  the  garden  had  a  lovely 
appearance.  There  were  the  gooseberry  trees, 
with  their  yellow,  red,  green  and  brown  leaves, 
which  hung  so  slightly  that  they  seemed  ready  to 
fall  at  the  least  touch.  Some  of  the  sunflowers 
and  hollyhocks  were  withered  and  dry,  but  an 
apricot  tree,  which  was  nailed  against  the  wall, 
looked  beautiful ;  its  leaves,  partly  yellow  and 
partly  red,  were  curled  up,  and  had  a  waxy  appear- 
ance that  much  pleased  us.  A  fresh  breeze  swept 
over  the  garden,  and  as  it  bent  the  tall  poplar  trees, 
the  leaves  fell  off,  and  the  wind  drove  them  to  a 
great  distance,  while  some  that  were  lying  dry 
upon  the  ground  mounted  up  into  the  air. 

Pale  autumn's  hue  had  tinged  the  trees. 

That  rudety  rock'd  in  the  blustering  breeze ; 

While  springing  lightly  from  the  ground, 

The  yellow  leaves  were  flying  round. 
I  always  loved  a  bustling  wind,  and  we  quite 
enjoyed  the  animated  scene  before  us.  Every  plant 
in  the  garden  seemed  in  motion.  The  ivy  leaves 
were  dancing  round  the  edge  of  the  bower,  and  a  few 
tall  dahlias,  that  had  out-bloomed  their  companions, 


20  THE   SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE. 

waved  gracefully  to  and  fro,  though  we  expected 
every  minute  that  their  slender  stems  would  be 
broken.  It  was  rather  too  cool  to  sit  still,  and  we 
began  plucking  some  of  the  withered  leaves  to  put 
in  a  book.  "  Let  us  make  a  garland  of  them,"  said 
Mary ;  "  they  will  look  very  pretty  contrasted  with 
some  of  the  green  ivy  leaves ;"  so  we  set  to  work 
collecting  the  most  beautiful  colors.  Soon  a  cherry 
tree  attracted  all  our  attention,  for  at  the  very  top 
of  it  were  some  bright  orange  colored  leaves  mot- 
tled with  brown,  and  they  looked  more  beautiful 
than  any  we  had  seen  in  the  garden.  "  Oh,  if  we 
could  but  reach  them,"  said  I ;  and  Mary  was  deter- 
mined to  get  them.  We  shook  the  tree,  but  the 
branches  were  stiff  and  strong,  so  that  with  all  our 
shaking  we  could  scarcely  move  the  top  bough  on 
which  they  grew;  there  were  plenty  of  leaves 
mottled  with  brown  within  our  reach,  and  a  great 
many  on  the  ground,  but  these  were  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  bright  orange  leaves  that  waved 
over  our  heads.  At  last  Mary  fetched  a  long  stick, 
and  striking  the  branch,  to  our  great  satisfaction 
the  leaves  fell  to  the  ground.  We  both  ran  to  the 
place  where  they  fell,  and  looked  about,  but  what 
was  our  disappointment  when  we  found  they  were 
not  even  so  pretty  as  many  we  had  already  ga- 
thered. Indeed  we  had  some  difficulty  in  distin- 
guishing them  from  those  which  had  fallen  before. 
"  Ah  !  I  see  now,"  exclaimed  Mary,  holding  one  up 
over  her  head,  "  it  was  the  sun  shining  upon  them 
that  made  them  look  so  beautiful."     And  true 


THE   SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE.  21 

enough  it  was,  for  a  few  that  were  still  left  on  the 
top  of  the  tree,  looked  as  bright  and  beautiful  as 
those  had  done  which  were  now  the  cause  of  our 
disappointment. 

No  doubt,  hundreds  of  young  people  have  been 
disappointed  in  the  same  manner,  and  probably  they 
may  have  discovered  that  the  sunshine  alters  the 
appearance  of  many  things  in  this  world  beside  the 
bright  orange  leaves  at  the  top  of  a  cherry  tree ; 
for  many  things  that  appear  very  beautiful  when 
the  sun  is  shining  upon  them,  are  not  worth  look- 
ing at  in  the  shade.  I  remember  once  being  very 
much  struck  with  a  bright  light  on  the  ground,  at 
some  distance  from  me;  it  was  so  dazzling  that  it 
appeared  like  a  fallen  star,  but  when  I  went  up  and 
examined  it,  I  found  it  to  be  nothing  more  than  a 
piece  of  an  old  glass  bottle.  It  was  the  sunshine 
that  made  it  look  so  beautiful. 

When  I  was  young  I  remember  how  I  used  to 
admire  the  beautiful  carriage,  fine  horses,  and 
gold  liveries  of  Squire  Adams,  a  very  rich  gentle- 
man who  lived  near.  Every  Sunday  the  carriage 
drove  up  to  the  church-door  with  the  squire  and 
his  lady,  and  they  sat  in  the  large  crimson  pew  on 
one  side  of  the  pulpit.  When  the  service  was 
over,  nobody  thought  of  moving  until  the  squire 
and  his  lady  had  left  the  church,  and  every  poor 
man  bowed,  and  every  poor  woman  made  a  low 
courtesy  as  they  passed  the  carriage.  The  squire 
and  his  lady  received  much  company,  and 
kept  a  great  many  servants.    Ah !  the  sun  was 


22  THE    SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE. 

shining  on  them  then,  but  it  was  very  different 
afterward.  Squire  Adams  spent  a  great  deal  of 
property,  and  lost  a  large  sum  of  money  at  the 
gaming  table,  so  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  give  up 
his  carriage  and  fine  estate,  and  take  a  small  house 
at  some  miles  distance,  where  I  believe  he  is  still 
living  in  a  very  retired  manner.  When  Squire 
Adams  gave  up  his  carriage  and  servants,  he  was 
obliged  also  to  give  up  his  company,  for  the  great 
folks  who  visited  him  before  never  went  near  him 
after.  And  what  made  all  this  difference?  He  was 
still  the  same  Squire  Adams.  Why,  the  sun  shone 
upon  him  no  longer ;  the  shade  came,  and  then 
nobody  knew  any  thing  about  him.  And  gloomy 
indeed  was  that  shade,  for  he  had  found  pleasure 
in  dissipated  amusements,  but  had  taken  no  delight 
in  reading  his  Bible,  which  is  a  lamp  unto  the  feet 
and  a  light  unto  the  path. 

Poor  old  Susan  Jarvis  lives  in  an  alms-house,  and 
is  very  happy,  though  the  sun  has  long  ceased  to 
shine  upon  her.  There  was  a  time  when  she  was 
very  well  off  in  the  world,  but  it  pleased  God, 
"  whose  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,"  to  afflict  and 
bring  her  low.  She  lost  her  husband,  and  soon 
after  a  daughter,  her  only  earthly  comfort,  but  she 
was  enabled  to  look  up  amidst  her  afflictions,  and 
say,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away:  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord."  Though 
she  lives  by  herself  in  an  alms-house,  yet  she  is 
not  gloomy ;  she  has  found  that  the  ways  of  reli- 
gion are  the  ways  of  pleasantness.  .   I  think  I 


THE   SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE.  23 

should  not  have  said  that  the  sun  has  ceased  to 
shine  upon  her,  for  the  Lord  hath,  in  her  case, 
made  the  heart  of  the  widow  to  sing  for  joy :  her 
treasure  is  not  here ;  she  has  seen  enough  of  the 
changes  of  this  world  to  know  that  there  is  no 
dependence  to  be  placed  on  its  sunshine,  and  she 
has  found  enough  of  comfort  in  putting  her  trust  in 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  even  in  that  Saviour,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  whom  is  no  variableness, 
neither  the  shadow  of  turning. 

And  now  I  have  shown  you  the  difference  be- 
tween the  sunshine  of  worldly  prosperity,  which  is 
liable  to  be  obscured  in  a  moment,  and  the  sunshine 
of  God's  presence,  which  shall  beam  around  his 
faithful  followers  to  all  eternity.  Solomon  says, 
"  A  pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the 
sun ; "  and  so  it  is,  whether  we  look  on  the  sun  in 
the  firmament,  or  with  the  eye  of  faith  gaze  on  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  the  only  Saviour  of  sinners, 
the  Lord  of  life  and  glory  ! 

I  know  not  whether  the  sun  is  shining  on  you 
or  not ;  that  is,  whether  your  worldly  comforts  are 
great,  your  health  good,  and  your  prospect  bright ; 
but  if  the  sun  is  thus  shining  upon  you,  take  care ! 
for  when  we  have  the  comforts  of  earth  around  us, 
we  are  tempted  to  think  little  of  heaven  :  when  we 
feel  strong  in  ourselves,  our  faith  in  God  and  his 
Son  Jesus  Christ  is  generally  very  weak.  Take 
care,  I  say,  of  the  sunshine !  In  the  storm  we  are  sure 
to  seek  a  shelter.  In  trouble  we  are  ready  enough 
to  go  to  Him  who  is  a  very  present  help  in  time  of 


24  THE    SUNSHINE    OF   LIFE. 

trouble,  and  in  sickness  and  sorrow  to  pray  that  he 
will  become  the  strength  of  our  heart,  and  our  por- 
tion for  ever  ;  but  in  sunshine,  alas  !  God  is  not  in 
all  our  thoughts  !  I  remember  hearing  a  lady,  who 
had  known  something  -both  of  adversity  and  pros- 
perity, and  who  was  then  in  worldly  prosperity, 
say,  that  she  found  it  much  more  difficult  to  live  to 
God  in  prosperity  than  adversity. 

You  have  seen  how  the  sunshine  quivers  on  the 
running  water,  glitters  on  the  gilded  weathercock, 
and  blazes  on  the  window  panes.  You  have  heard 
how  it  beautified  the  fading  leaf  of  the  cherry  tree, 
and  adorned  the  piece  of  the  old  broken  bottle.  I  have 
told  you  also  how  worldly  prosperity,  like  sunshine, 
puts  a  temporary  glitter  on  all  things  around  us,  and 
you  have  read,  that  though  the  sunshine  of  prosperity 
did  not  keep  rich  Squire  Adams  from  trouble  and 
affliction,  the  sunshine  of  God's  presence  made 
poor  Susan  Jarvis  happy.  Whenever,  then,  the 
sun  shines  around  you,  ask  yourself  if  it  be  likely 
to  endure,  and  be  not  deceived  when  earthly  things 
glitter  brighter  than  those  of  heaven.  Once  more 
I  say,  have  a  care  of  the  sunshine !  and  seek  the 
grace  of  the  Redeemer  as  the  greatest  good  to  which' 
you  can  attain  ;  for  as  a  faithful  servant  of  God  hath 
said,  "  He  who  in  prosperity  finds  God  in  all  things, 
shall  in  adversity  find  all  things  in  God." 

THE  END. 


^w 


{{, 


